Maleficence
by Seifer Almasy 911
Summary: After a long journey across the country Angelina finds starting a new life in the Mojave won't be as easy as she had hoped, and that the Legion, despite being pushed back yet again, is as much a threat as ever.
1. Misfortune

Over the course of several brutal, challenging years it was possible to travel the breadth of the post-apocalyptic American wasteland, though it wouldn't take quite so long if it wasn't for the inevitable change in plans. Nothing in the wasteland ever worked out as anyone had planned. Angelina Qeats had learned this the hard way many times before and after leaving the Capital Wasteland. She had fled a life of violence and evil, of apathy and amorality, and left behind a crumbling city that was ready to destroy itself but Angelina had never found another place to stay for all too long. From the murky swamps of Maryland to the gargantuan rusted out shells of factories of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan and Indiana, continuing through Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah and finally Nevada. It had been a long, hard road, but Angelina wasn't soft, she didn't crumble under pressure but rather fought back just as fiercely as the wasteland attacked her. It was that same ferocity combined with her skill and experience as a mercenary that had allowed Angelina to survive wherever she had chosen to stay, wandering across the devastated country unsure of where exactly she was going but continuing on anyway.

Even as she made her way down through the barren northern desert sitting above New Vegas Angelina didn't fold. An entirely new environment and yet another she had adapted to, the intense heat and thirst quickly becoming just another minor obstacle to over come on her journey and so Angelina continued marching on south through the Mojave, a long trip to be sure, but one she could make. Taking a sip from a canteen she had picked up some time ago upon deciding to venture into the Mojave Angelina enjoyed the cool water for as long as it lasted before screwing the cap back on and sticking her canteen back where it had been. Adjusting the simple worn out, sun bleached baseball cap she had also picked up upon heading for the Mojave Angelina peered out into the distance, scanning the horizon; there was still little more than empty desert broken up by random plants and rocks dotting the land scape but nothing Angelina could readily identify as a threat. The quieter things remained the better Angelina decided, adjusting the rifle slung over her shoulder next to her pack, she hadn't traveled across an entire nation just to fight off random creatures and bandits in another state. In the end Angelina didn't know why exactly she had come to the Mojave but it had felt right, as had all the other places she had gone to, and while unsure how long she would end up staying she had taken to the trails and never looked back.

Whatever came of Angelina's journey to the Mojave it was sure to be just as interesting as any of her other adventures since fleeing the Capital Wasteland, after all Angelina knew there was no such thing as a dull day in the wasteland and could only imagine the sorts of thing she would find in the Mojave. She had certainlyl seen some things across the country that were unique to their areas, things Angelina would have never seen inside the Capital Wasteland, though whether or not going out and seeing the world as it now was likely wasn't as pleasant as it once had been centuries ago. It was still an oddly enlightening experience for Angelina and it certainly curbed her pessimistic habits if only slightly. Outside of DC where she had lived the majority of her life there were all sorts of equally marvelous and horrendous things, but DC had largely been filled with the horrendous, hopeless, soul crushingly brutal things to be found in the wasteland. Angelina couldn't help but hope, even if it was just a little, that the Mojave would be more of the glorious and less of the horrid but she also couldn't help but remind herself just how unlikely that was.

Not knowing or caring what came of her journey Angelina kept going, scanning the dusty horizon ahead of her every so often as she drew closer and closer to New Vegas and the outlying communities. About all Angelina could be sure of at all was that, looking out at the towering casinos in the distance, New Vegas would be an entirely unique experience. She could only imagine what it looked like when seen at night.

"Howdy there, Vegas." Angelina smirked, adjusting her rifle again, "Think we're gonna be good friends."

As Angelina drew closer to the north fringes of Vegas she had spotted what she had been told was a small ghetto community, one struggling to get by but filled with more decent, well meaning people than one would expect. Known as the North Vegas Ruins Angelina would soon be calling it home. Broke and with little in the way of supplies Angelina had taken to living off the land and gathering only the essentials, an emergency supply essentially, and moving with as little as possible; never knowing when she would be moving from any given home she stumbled across in her journey, also inspired by eventually starting to dislike the idea of piling up material possessions. It had suddenly seemed entirely useless to her, thus living in the ghetto was no big deal - and she certainly didn't feel as if she was in danger, havng seen more than her share of violence and debauchery in the wasteland. Nothing much worried Angelina and she hadn't been honestly scared in a long time, not even remembering the last time such a thing had happened and almost forgetting what it felt like to be truly frightened.

Pushing open an old creaking door at a cramped entrance built out of various old signs in various states of disrepair piled around the area also acting as barriers to prevent unwanted visitors Angelina stepped into the ruins of north Vegas and quickly scanned her surroundings. The crumbling buildings and dirty looking residents were exactly what she'd expected, what Angelina hadn't exactly expected was when a middle aged looking man with graying hair spotted her with a curious look on his face and started to approach, carefully and sure to make it clear he was no threat.

"Hey there." The man nodded as he approached Angelina, stopping a couple feet short of her, "Welcome to North Vegas - or what's left of it."

"Thanks... don't worry, I wasn't exactly expecting the big city lights of the Strip."

"Well then you're not gonna be too disappointed." The man smirked, chuckling and shaking his head slightly, "Anyway, we don't exactly work like no one else here. If you're looking to stay you'll just have to find a place and post up there."

"Works for me." Angelina nodded, "Just a free for all then?"

"Generally," The man confirmed with a short nod, "It's not too bad - you get some punks every now and then, but the community pulls together to take care of them for the most part. We like it nice and calm."

"No need to add to the misery, I suppose." Angelina mused as she quickly looked around before returning her gaze to the man before her, "Thanks..."

"Mattew." The man smiled, holding out his hand.

"Angelina." She reached out and shook his hand.

Angelina stepped outside of what could now be called her home in the North Vegas Ruins and squinted in the bright late morning light before she fit her baseball cap snugly over her closely shaved head, barely any hair actually present, just enough t be visible and not appear bald. She had shaved it long ago and never looked back, not missing her hair at all and even finding she looked better without it and it had always bothered her while working if it was any longer- after less than a month as a mercenary in the Capital Wasteland Angelina had lopped it all off never to be seen again. Of course, she mused as she stepped further out into the ghetto, if she had let it grow out now her graying hair would show even more.

Pushing that thought off to the side and mulling over something more important as she headed down the cracked and uneven street Angelina started thinking about what she was going to do with herself in New Vegas. She had't thought much about anything she had done before, simply slipping into the life of a mercenary and never questioning it. Now Angelina couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if she changed that habit, having continued it in a sense during her journey to the Mojave; Angelina had largely found work with caravans and the like wherever she settled down and even once she started moving from one temporary home to another she had preferred to stick with caravans, they usuallly paid well enough and she only worked with ones heading in the same direction as her allowing her to make money to spend wherever she ended up. While it was mercenary work it wasn't at all like a lot of what Angelina had done before which she considered long behind her, having abandoned it almost entirely since The Pitt, though she hadn't done much work there either; or rather she had been paid but hadn't done it for the money. Slaughtering what remained of the raiders there was a pleasure, one last indulgence in the insane bloodlust that had once been a normal part of her life before leaving it behind or at least trying to.

Coming to the end of her stroll Angelina's thoughts on the matter ended for the time being and she pushed open the rickety old door to the outside world, leading out into the desert wilderness that was the Mojave wasteland though even pre-war it would have been a harsh place that was hard to live in she imagined. Whatever it was like, and whatever Angelina decided to do with herself for now she was determined to make it work. Whatever the Mojave held for her she would face it head on as she had all problems that she encountered before.

Angelina lay almost completely motionless, completely still except for her breathing and her eyes scanning the area below. The sun beating down on her she ignored it entirely, nothing could bother her at that exact moment as she observed her target carefully; the heat, dust, rocks, various creatures of the Mojave - none of them would distract her. None of them mattered. All there was in the world that mattered was Angelina, her rifle and her target.

The NCR hadn't taken control of the Mojave and forcefully added it to the list of conquered territories now part of the Republic without making more than a few enemies and this one in particular had caused enough trouble to earn the honor or a price being put on his head. Angelina was there to collect.

When she was good and ready Angelina finally pulled the trigger. The old level action rifle was aged but still in great condition; the trigger pull was perfect and it broke cleanly. The hammer fell and a split second later the .45-70 Government round in the chamber shot out from the weapon's barrel and connected with Angelin's target. The man was struck just left of his nose and collapsed mid-step dead before he hit the ground already covered in his own blood as it began pooling around him on the dust covered ground. Angelina calmly pushed the lever of her rifle forward, pulled it back into position and grabbed the empty cartridge that had been ejected tucking away the small brass casing in a pocket before getting up and heading down to where her target lay to claim her prize.

There had once been a somewhat powerful and far reaching group in the Capital Wasteland, where Angelina had once made a living as a mercenary, known as the Regulators who functioned similarly to how Angelina did now. They would take the fingers of targets as proof of their death and wold also accept the fingers of targets from others that sought to assist them in their efforts to rid the wasteland of what they determined to be evil scum. Angelina didn't make that moral distinction in her work and preferred taking the ears of her kills instead, finding them easier to remove and carry, and now had taken the ear of her target. Searching the dead man with a rather large chunk of the back of his head missing Angelina wasn't bothered by the sight, she simply took what valuables she found, particularly ammunition and started moving leaving one more dead Great Khan in her wake as she did so. It didn't matter to Angelina who her targets were but as she walked away from the man laying in a pool of his own blood she couldn't help but feel satisfied, the Khans were little more than barely cultured raiders, but raiders none the less. Angelina had a deeply personal grudge against anyone even vaguely associated with raiders let alone those who were raiders, but that didn't matter. What mattered was getting back alive to collect her payment.

It was a long way back to where she needed to be but Angelina was no stranger to physical exertion and was in fact quite familiar with it though old wounds of hers had seen fit to start acting up should she wear herself out too much; her ribs ached where she had once been shot and had a couple of them shattered, her leg which had nearly been crippled by a shotgun from close range pained her whenever she strained it, she had taken a round underneath each shoulder blade though those thankfully didn't flare up, at least not as often as the others. There were other less severe wounds both old and new and then of course the myriad of undocumented and hard to keep track of mental battle wounds and scars. which still plagued Angelina. Those were the ones she preferred to avoid thinking about the most as well and ignoring them was just what she did as Angelina adjusted the faded baseball cap she was still wearing two months after arriving in the Mojave, two months during which she still hadn't entirelly adjusted to the desert climate.

"Shit." Angelina breathed quietly, unslinging her rifle and ducking behind a large nearby rock as she heard voices in the distance.

As far out as Angelina was she wasn't going to take any chances. Plenty of people were attacked within city limits of whatever city they might reside in but many more attacks occured and ended badly out in the wasteland where one was all alone and only had themselves to rely on. Luckily for Angelina she had never been given to relying too strongly on others. Instead she simply kept her wits about her while out and about and if anyone decided the lone bounty hunter was their next target they would quickly, painfully and fatallly learn why that was a horrible idea.

Carefully peeking out from behind her relatively solid cover and could see two men wandering toward her in similar garb as he target clearly alerted by the shot she had fired not too long ago. Raising her rifle Angelina kept the men in her sights, noting that they too were Great Khans. She had been told her target had possibly been holed up with others. The others hadn't had a price put on their heads individually but Angelina had been offered a small bonus for each additional Great Khan she took out along with her intended target.

"Too easy."

Keeping her rifle steady Angelina watched the two men cautiously scanning the area around them without seeing her and continued walking slowly out in the open. Neither of them would be leaving there alive. Angelina fired and one of the Khans hit the ground with a large bloody hole just left of the center of his chest, collapsing almost like a puppet with its strings cut as the life was instantaneously snatched out of him. Quickly ejecting the empty cartridge and chambering another round Angelina lined up her second shot and fired again, this Khan was dropped just as easily before he could take cover or figure out what was going on. He dropped to his knees and toppled oover with a hole just under his chin.

Two more literally filthy raiders of the broken tribe that had once dominated Bitter Springs and then Red Rock Canyon lying dead Angelina approached and quickly removed an ear from each other their corpses before setting back out on her way. The small group of Khans had been hiding near the still abandoned Camp Guardian, using a nearby cave as the group had often been known to do struggling to barely survive and foolishly raiding any and all passers by in addition to attacking any NCR units they had the chance to. It had been those attacks whether out of necessity or revenge that had alerted the NCR to their presence and the job had eventually been handed down to Angelina once it had become clear a once prominent Khan was behind the trouble. All that was left was to collect the bounty for him and his two partners in crime. As she kept walking along back to where she'd picked up the job Angelina mulled that over, the men she had killed were criminals and yet she didn't feel too strongly about that, the only real feelings she had about the situation being the sick delight of revenge carried out. Raiders above all were scum in her book a place they had earned not only by being just that but by attacking her long ago leaving the bounty hunter scarred and angry ever since, the ill will she felt toward them greater than anyting else and still dominating her life even as she attempted to change. More than once she had considered the possibility that it wasn't possible at all to change whether she wanted to or not, Angelina still didn't know, but she was there to try. Changing her life had been the motivation behind arriving in the Mojave in the first place.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind Angelina proceeded toward cvilization or what passed for it in the post-apocalyptic nightmare that the United States had become. At the moment nothing much mattered other than getting back alive and in one piece all other thoughts only served to distract her from that task. Distractions were one thing Angelina couldn't afford as they would mean a possibly slow, horrible death and death in general was one thing she wished to avoid if at all possible. If not who or whatever it was that killed her would find it was no easy task killing her.

The thought of Angelina putting up much if any of a fight hadn't occured to another man out in the wilderness she was completely unaware was watching her carefully. It hadn't occured to him because being one of the remnants of Caesar's Legion that hadn't fled back east and tried desperately to regroup he viewed women as truly incapable of anything even vaguely related to combat and waging war. She, as a female, was beneath him in every way. She was domestic being meant to serve him in every way and make his life easier in whatever way that he demanded but that thought wasn't what drove Curtis at the moment, though the thought of a wife taken by force and shown as a trophy of his conquest was always pleasing it was instead his drive to carry out the will of the Legion that fueled him. Several other men such as himself had been left behind and operated largely on their own in order to cause as many problems as possible for the NCR in their own territory while the main Legion forces regrouped and continued fighting back east. This filthy degenerate woman that he carefully tailed with ease due to years of experience as one of the frumentarii had been responsible for the death of one frumentarius that had given himself away by mistake as well as generally helping the NCR allowing them to focus more on their war effort instead of domestic issues such as the Great Khan remnants. For this she was to be dealt with.

Moving carefully until he was well within range Curtis let out a terrifyingly loud and indimidating war cry just as Angelina spun around and prepared for a fight; she was too late however as the frumentarius swung his club and caught her left arm in the bicep knocking her footing off and sending her reeling until she regained her balance. Angelina barely unslung her rifle and started to bring it up when Curtis swung his club again this time striking her left hand itself likely breaking several bones as intense pain shot through Angelina's arm and she clenched her teeth hard enough that they felt as if they might shatter into dust.

The frumentarius didn't stop as Angelina lost her grip on the rifle and stepped in close, jamming the end of his club into her stomach doubling Angelina over before he brought his elbow down sharply into the base of her skull. A sharp pain spreading quickly from where she'd been struck Angelina was dazed by the blow as it knocked her to the ground and she felt a booted foot stomp down on her right hand before kicking away her rifle almost effortlessly. Despite her injuries Angelina was far from done fighting and rolled over, drawing her knife and slashing at Curtis' legs leaving a searing hot gaping gash along both legs.

Curtis simply clenched his teeth and raised his war club high above his head fighting through the relatively minor pain, ready to deliver a blow to Angelina's head he barely missed kicking up clouds of dust and dirt surrounding Angelina's head forcing her to close he eyes as she brought a leg up and forefully kicked him in the crotch.

The move bought Angelina time as Curtis nearly fell over and barely held onto his club as Angelina painfully crawled out from under him and struggled to her feet, shedding the pack she was carrying as she did so. Tightly gripping her knife Angelina paused to gain her bearings still shook up from the violent serious of blows she had taken before charging Curtis who was now fighting to raise his club, still in pain and all around discomfort. Angelina closed the distance between them in a few short steps and kept her off hand up and ready to defend herself as she planted her feet and swung with all her might putting her body behind the blow as she stuck her combat knife in Curtis' side before he could avoid the attack. The familiar sensation of her weaopn piercing someone's torso was oddly satisfying and only further fueled Angelina's counter attack; pressing her shoulder against him she pushed and threw Curtis flat on his back and ripped her knife out at the same time.

Sent sprawling Curtis lost his grip on his club and fell back onto the ground scrambling to put some distance between him and Angelina before trying to get up. She didn't give him a chance to however and charged him again, bringing her booted foot across his face knocking a few teeth out in the process, sending the tiny white specks bouncing across the ground along with a small streak of blood. Bringing her boot down on Curtis' throat once he was flat on his back Angelina listened to his pained coughs as she raised her foot and brought it back down again this time on his nose easiily breaking it.

Curtis took the blows rather well and despite the intense pain shooting through his body caught Angelina's next kick and pushed back throwing her off balance and a moment later she fell flat on her back. Curtis scrambled to his feet, warm blood flowing freely all over the lower half of his face as he did so reminding him of his painful wound that he was fighting through. For Caesar, for the Legion, nothing would stop him except death. Angelina had barely gotten to her feet before Curtis tackled her throwing his full weight into her sending them both to the group in a heap, his larger body crushing her against the ground as he fell on top of her, Struggling to get an arm out from underneath Curtis and start punching him; the first blow struck his already injured nose stunning her dazed attacker just long enough to strike again before he forefully back handed her which was more loud than it was painful.

Angelina stared up at her attacker and struggled to fight back but with one severely injured hand and on her back with him atop her it quickly became a struggle simply to avoid his blows or otherwise block them. Curtis didn't care, didn't hesitate and certainly didn't stop as he rained down blows upon his trapped victim mercilessly beating her, furiously punching and striking with all his might knowing that to relent was to show weakness, to invite this pathetic woman beneath him to fight back, to allow her the chance to do so. He had felled many a greater opponent than her. This NCR loving profligate would be no match.

Raising his elbow high above Angelina as she uncovered her face and attempted to strike back at her attacker, having hardly done so the entire time, Curtis brought it down and struck Angelina between the eyes knocking her out as her head bounced off the ground beneath her. For the second time in her life Angelina was at the mercy of a raider.

The temptation to simply kill Angelina with a crushing blow to her skull from his war club had been great but Curtis had managed to keep himself from doing so. He had decided on another fate for the degenerate wastelander that lay before him and after restraining the injured woman started to carry her off to where he had made camp. For several days Curtis had followed the NCR's bounty hunter from afar using the skills of a frumentarius to remain undetected and when she had ventured forth into the wilderness so too had he, adopting a new series of tactics and remaining entirely unseen instead of simply blending into the background as he had before.

After watching Angelina and properly deciding upon a plan of action the highly trained, experienced frumentarius struck when she least expected it and had captured his target alive. The only obstacle left standing in his way was to hand her off to the Legion proper and send her back east. Tending to his wounds once he reached the nearby camp Curtis watched his new capture carefully, she was not after all as poor a fighter as he had suspected, however he certainly did not fear her. If the woman awoke and decided she wished to be beaten more than he would happily oblige. Until then Curtis simply continued tending to his wounds and planned his next move carefully.

Curtis was certainly no stranger to operating deep behind enemy lines having done so since before the ill fated Second Battle Of Hoover Dam which had driven the Legion back considerably. Now was no different than before save for his lack of support close at hand but it wasn't the first time Curtis had operated under such conditions and likely wouldn't be the last. There would an opening across the river nearby and that was where he would slip through and deliver his capture to the rest of the Legion, carefully making his way through dangerous territory as he had so many times before, once the hand off had been made Curtis would return to the Mojave to continue his secret war against the NCR.

Continuing to plan his next series of moves as he ignored the pain his wounds were causing him Curtis started a small camp fire and found his capture stirring, her hands tightly boud as well as her feet for now. Curtis always made sure they were only as mobile as needed and if not needed at all then the captures were rendered immobile. Angelina was the latter because she didn't need to be the former.

"Be still wench." Curtis spoke in a commanding voice, glaring at Angelina where she lay on her side, "Be still and quiet."

Angelina's mind was barely able to register the fact that someone was speaking let alone to her or what was being said. Instead she continued to wake up in intense pain and start struggling as she opened her eyes.

"I said be _still_!" Curtis quickly rosed closing the gap between them and kicking her in the stomach, "Lay there and know your place profligate."

Angelina could do little more than curl up in pain and attempt to shield herself from any further blows as pain flowed through every last inch of her beaten body, unable to fight back just yet as she angrily waited for the moment when she could get loose and beat whoever this man was to death. Until then Angelina struggled to keep herself from attempting anything further lest she be beaten until she couldn't make her escape when the opportunity presented itself. When that moment came whoever Angelina's attacker was he would meet a bloody brutal and preferrably drawn out end that would put him through twice the pain she was experiencing.

"Good. Now stay that way."

Angelina simply clenched her teeth and glared at Curtis as he took a seat across from her and started cooking something or other over the small campfire he had started.

Some time later with her hand still shattered and pain almost crippling her Angelina fought through it as she stumbled along after Curtis who tirelessly drug her along after having dangerously crossed the Colorado nearly drowning her in the process. He had simply beat her shouting that she was nothing but a filthy burden and slowing him down, that it would almost be easier to simply kill her, but still he dragged her through the wasteland further east. Angelina simply kept up as best she could to avoid further beatings which, if she fought back in her current state would only bring on a more severe beating. Instead of fighting she went along with whatever Curtis demanded and waited.

Curtis had turned his back started leading Angelina along further east toward friendly territory for him and unbelievably hostile territory for her. It was finally what appeared to be the perfect moment - exactly what she'd been waiting for - Angelina lunged forward raising her bound hands and bringing them down in front of Curtis. She simaltaneously put a boot in the back os his knee then put her own knee in his back as she pressed him down flat on his stomach, pulling back and beginning to strangle him with the rope that bound her hands together. Curtis struggled and fought back but it was no use despite her own injuries Angelina had taken him by surprise and was more than capable of keeping him beneath her now and slowly but surely, painfully, the life drained from Curtis' and he went limp in her hands.

"Fucker." Angelina let Curtis' head hit the ground and freed herself with a knife he carried.

Once free Angelina quickly scanned the area around her and found that she was alone - at least for the time being. Acting quickly she took Curtis' sheath for his knife and put it on her own belt, sheathing the knife she hesitated as she examined his club for a moment. The surprisingly well made weapon had been hand crafted and having been on the receiving end of it Angelina knew just how devastating the surprisingly small, light weapon was. After a moment she took it in her good hand and propped it against her shoulder as she started moving.

Angelina had completely lost track of which direction they had been moving in during the rough trek across the post-apocalyptic wilderness of Arizona. Whatever the man had planned to do with her it wasn't good and Angelina knew enough to figure out he had been with the Legion. They had been heading east. Now she had no clue where she was or where she was going but Angelina knew anything that wasn't in an NCR uniform was hostile and that was more than enough motivation to kill who or whatever she ran into without waiting for them to take notice of her. The only problem with that plan was with her hand still badly injured Angelina likely wouldn't be able to use the club she had taken from Curtis and though she still had his knife which likely wouldn't save her from a concentrated effort.

Unfortunately for her Angelina quickly learned just how correct her assessment of the situation had been moments later upon running into a group of legionairies who quickly spotted her and gave chase. Unable to flee and evade them Angelina stopped, turned quickly and swung her stolen club one handed striking one of the men in the side of the head resulting in a loud sickening snap as he fell to the ground dead. Angelina dropped the club instantly not bothering to try and recover it but by the tie she'd unsheathed her knife it was too late. The group was all over her and soon enough she was yet again beginning to lose conciousness while the group beat her endlessly.

Hours later Angelina awoke in even more intense pain that when Curtis had originally captured her, not knowing just how long it had been since she had stumbled into the legionairies who had immediately recaptured her in her wounded state. All that Angelina knew was she was bound hand and foot much more securely than before and laying on her side once again.

As Angelina came to her vision was filled with a dimly lit room, quickly realizing she was in a tent of some sort with a low fire lit nearby, surrounded by men speaking to each other apparently unaware of her recovery. More Legion men. She was at a camp, Angelina decided, they had taken her to a Legion camp at an unknown location somewhere in Arizona likely deep in hostile territory.

"Ah, you have awakened." An evil, demeaning yet smooth and calm voice carried through to her.

After a moment of looking around a man in mostly crimson clothing crouched before Angelina and she barely managed to lift her head to look him in the eyes. A smile tugged at hsi lips threatening to give away how amused he was with the capture. The fact that even now facing slavery or crucifixion anyone would have the nerve, the bravery, to stare him down with clear aggression and anger in their eyes bumped her a notch up above other degenerates of the wasteland. That wouldn't save her from her fate.

"You have killed a great man, you know. For this you may be put to death but that is yet to be decided."

Angelina continued glaring up at him unflinchingly and her returned the favor during her pause, his eyes drifting over her as she struggled slightly less than before, still working at the ropes that bound her.

"Try as you might you won't free yourself. It is over for you, I am afraid." The legionairy shook his head, matching Angelina's gaze once more, "You will not escape. You will not meet any other fate but what we decide for you - what the mighty Caesar decides. You will suffer as he sees fit."

"Fuck you." Angelina spat, "Fuck you. With a barrel cactus."

"Ah, such colorful words, and yet - they carry no weight." The man chided shaking his head, "It's okay soon you may not be able to spit your filthy profligate insults, flinging them about so carelessly as you go about all your business. Filthy vermin. You will learn, however short the rest of your pathetic little life may be - you will _learn_."

Angelina fell silent as she clenched her teeth and nearly shook with rage, wincing and regretting it as she attempted to ball both her hands into fists. The pain that shot through her body from her shattered left hand was great enough that not even she could ignore it and Angelina had suffered many, many horrific wounds in her relatively short life.

"Ah, see? You have already learned a valuable lesson. If you wish to avoid pain do not cross the Legion. You have learned this too late, I fear. But we will see. Perhaps this valuable lesson will be put to use after all."

Apparently finished taunting and insulting their capture the man stood and left the tent they had left Angelina in surprised they hadn't simply left her out in the open to freeze in the disturbingly cold desert nights. Whatever the case Angelina found herself restless and yet unable to free herself, her restraints cutting into her skin even more every time she struggled against them which only served to further her pain and misery simply making her suffering that much worse and yet she couldn't bring herself to quit. Not until, eventually, as the legionairies all returned to their tents - and even a few to the one she was in no doubt to keep her from attempting an escape - and Angelina simply wore herself out. Eventually she passed out into a fitful sleep that was none too satisfying.

Angelina was rather rudely awakened by suddenly being forcefully nudged by a legionary's booted foot until she woke up, even receiving a light kick to the head as she opened her eyes.

"Awaken debased wench, we move."

It was when she went to get to her feet Angelina realized that they weren't bound with rope any longer and the tents had been broken down and the group was ready to move. It had also been as she rose from the dirt that Angelina realized her injured hand had been crudely set. Upon noticing she was aware of this the man that had taunted her last night smiled to himself, looking over at her.

"If you are to be a slave you are no good broken."

Angelina once again simply clenched her teeth and imagined what it would be like to watch the life slowly drain from this man's eyes as she had watched Curtis die not all that long ago, before running into a Legion patrol, one that she could hardly believe had captured her alive. It would have been an understatement to say her pride had been wound instead it had been stabbed, beaten and left dying on the side of a caravan route. All she could do for now however was continue marching along with the fast pace of the legionairies who stopped for little to nothing along the way as they headed further and further into Legion territory taking Angelina to the nearest real settlement. She had avoided slavery years ago when captured by raiders in the Capital Wasteland and now as Angelina looked about her for an escape route she couldn't find she had finally met that same fate in a new, possibly worse setting. Being sold to the Paradise Falls slavers and then possibly those in the Pitt was bad enough but even they could hardly compare to the stories she had been told of the Legion. Crucifixion, slavery and whatever other sick pass times they had weren't high on Angelina's list of things to experience in her life time but as she marched along behind her captors she prepared herself for the worst and to fight for her life yet again.

Trudging along behind the crimson clad warriors Angelina only now realized her old sun bleached baseball cap that had lost most of its color had been removed leaving her closely shaved head exposed to the elements. Rather uncomfortable but hardly noticeable given her circumstances. The mild discomfort was still nothing compared to knowing what lay ahead which dominated Angelina's thoughts as she desperately searched for a way out that wouldn't simply get her caught and beaten again but found none. These were not the same kind of people that simply went out raiding, these men were trained, they would catch her unless she thought things through. Curtis had let his guard down and underestimated her as nothing more than another degenerate and a woman at that. These men didn't seem too and in her current condition Angelina doubted she could take on one of them without having great difficulty let alone the whole group.

"We are almost there. Prepare to face your judgment." The Decanus spoke suddenly without looking back, his voice easily carrying to Angelina, "Face it with some sense of decency, unlike your degenerate bretheren."

With that the veteran Decanus continued leading the march to the Legion city, or what had once been a city, a small yet prosperous that had long since become a Legion dominated city and had at one point acted as a forward base until the day when the Legion took what remained of Arizona and proceeded further toward Nevada. Now pushed back into their own territory they were rebuilding even as the NCR kept slowly advancing, just how effective their efforts were was shown when frumentarii such as Curtis could operate with near impunity while teams like the one Angelina had run into safely left their own territory and ventured out looking for targets of opportunity. As the city drew closer and closer Angelina knew she had to make her move and take her chances in the Arizona wildness which was just as unforgivinly punishing as it was in Nevada with the added threat of Caesar's far reaching Legion.

Without hesitation Angelina stepped between two legionairies in the group and slammed her elbow into the side of one's head catching him completely off guard; his comrade reacted quickly but Angelina had already taken a step in his direction and swung her other elbow at his face as he drew his weapon. The man stumbled and fell over before Angelina regained her balance and took off running. The rest of the raiding party weren't far behind shouting loudly after her, machetes drawn and ready to carve her like a slab of meat when they finally caught up and that was more than motivation enough for Angelina as she kept moving her feet pounding against the bland sandy ground.

It was all Angelina could do to keep running, fleeing, the legionairies in pursuit still shouting for her blood but she didn't stop. Didn't hesitate. Even as she stumbled and nearly fell Angelina quickly found her clumsy footing and continued into the barren wasteland ahead almost glad that she was heading out into nothingness. There she would be alone. There they would lose her. Anywhere else would likely be filled with more Legion. Out in the wasteland Angelina knew she could survive and thus it was her only salvation - the only place no one would find her Legion or otherwise. It had been a mistake to ever set foot in the Mojave. It had been the most horrendously ill thought out action she had taken in a long time. As Angelina ran out into the endless sea of nothing she knew that, and barely keeping ahead of her pursuers she knew soon they would have her.

In the split second between tripping over herself again and hitting the ground Angelina gave up. Years of fighting and a trip across the country and nothing had truly changed, she was as equally hopeless there as anywhere. It was only the slightest sign of giving up but Angelina had cracked and in her mind had started deciding it was over, reacting slower, almost giving herself up. It was in her sluggish struggle to return to her feet that the legionairies caught Angelina and it began once more as it always would until she died, punches, kicks, a few machete blows that barely pierced her leather armor, and it didn't stop like it had before. The legionairies flew off into a blind rage and even their Decanus joined in the vicious display of power, control and dominance. It wasn't until the Decanus had finally decided that Angelina had been shown yet again that she was theirs and had no way to escape that the attack ceased.

Throwing Angelina over his shoulder one of the legionairies carried the nearly cripplied woman who was now nearly unconcious and incapable of fighting let alone escaping once more and so they marched on back toward the city they were still near which stood in the distance proudly displaying Legion banners all over. Wherever the degenerate they had captured came from this would now be her home from that point on until the end of her miserable worthless life if that was what their superiors decided. Perhaps it wouldn't be and instead she would be put to death or even thrown into the arena and given a chance to fight to the death and regain a scrap of honor. It didn't much matter to the legionairies who submitted to the will of Caesar and carried out his and his officers' orders without question or hesitation of any sort. Thus was the Legion in all their might.

So severe had been Angelina's several beatings and the Legion's neglectful treatment of their captures that upon being literally carried into one of the larger cities near the front line of the on going war that she had taken two weeks to recover enough to be able to function. The fact that she was unable to function didn't help in how the Legion treated her while she was caged and had a slave collar forced on her, cutting into her neck like nothing ever had. It was painful and wholely uncomfortable experience and recovery which Angelina couldn't imagine wishing on her worst enemy even as spiteful and vengeful as she could be though it was also something Angelina couldn't have imagined despite knowing what raiders and slavers were like the Legion seemed to make them appear rather tame in every way possible. Hearing the cries of nearby crucified and watching them be torn from their friends and family before being thrown up on a cross tended to have that effect on everyone.

Slowly over the next week Angelina began adjusting for lack of a better word to her decrepit, hopeless new existence which didn't seem to be much more than waiting around all day hoping she wasn't put on a cross or otherwise brutalized - something she'd surprisingly avoided. The legionairies were particularly brutal with their treatment of female captures, and women in general, and yet other than leering at her and constantly muttering to themselves and each other about the captured women none of them attacked Angelina. Other than the usual rough treatment she hadn't been dealt with in quite the same way which was something Angelina noted but appreciated. If anything like that had happened Angelina didn't know whether or not if she would have been able to capably defend herself, at least until more men got involved, given her current state but she would have fought. Angelina had already had that particular horrific scarring life experience once and didn't plan to ever let it happen again no matter how much she had given up on everything else. It was almost hard to simply sit by and watch as it occured semi-regularly to others but Angelina refused, deep down in the part of her that hadn't died, to let herself become like them.

"You, our might Centurion wishes to speak with you - filthy wench, up!" One of the legionairies kicked the large chain link fence that surrounded the captures near Angelina, "Up! Filthy woman."

Angelina groaned quietly as she stood bracing herself against the fence and using it to pull herself up mostly using her uninjured dirt caked hand. At that point she almost doubted it would ever be clean again. That any of her would ever be able to function even approaching properly ever again. Still she shambled over to the gate as it was opened and she was taken from the pen the captures were kept in day and night, rain or shine, at least one having died already from exposure to the elements.

Angelina was dragged along by her escort in no real shape to walk on her own anyway despite the time she'd spent in the Legion camp it had been a harsh period of time the likes of which she had never really experienced before even in her hard life as a mercenary. That did't matter now as it was an entire country and a complete life time behind her. Angelina's life now was that of a future slave. Broken, beaten and broken more when she finally thought things were at their worst. A couple of weeks with the Legion had shown her that thigns could always get worse and she had seen nothing in regards to how horrible the world could truly be. While all this was still running through her head Angelina found herself lead to some sort of large pre-war building that was still intact, a surprising but not rare occurence, and was pushed inside in front of the legionary who had retrieved her before he started pushing her up to the second floor and into a large office, or what had become one since its use after the nuclear apocalypse.

There before Angelina stood the first Centurion she had ever seen and if he so wished it the last, towering above her in his large suit of finely created armor that had no doubt stood the test of time and seen him through many battles, though now it lacked the blood his enemies and their entrails smeared all over it as it would have during most campaigns. Now however was rare moment indeed as he had fallen back and regrouped, awaiting reinforcements so that they could all storm the front line once again and take the NCR by surprise - but until then he had other ways to keep himself and his men entertained.

"That is all." The mountain of a man spoke calmly though his sharp eyes showed that it was a ruse, just below the surface was a sociopathic murderer ready to tear everyone apart within a ten mile radius.

The nameless Centurion and Angelina were left to stay at each other for the brief moment it took the legionairy to disappear back out the door on his way out of the building. In that extremely brief moment the two had easily read each other and made their first evaluation, she deciding he was definitely in control whether she liked it or not and more than a match for her, he deciding she was almost what he'd expected but somehow, just ever so slightly, less disgusting and reprehensible than he'd imagined.

"Come." He spoke after a moment and motioned for Angelina to step forward.

Angelina couldn't help but wince inwardly, doing what she could to keep from doing so outwardly as well, as she realized she hesitated at the gesture. She had learned to fear again. Angelina stepped forward and the two continued to observe each other carefully scanning for any signs of weakness like the one she had already displayed.

"You... you are the one who killed Curtis, or so they tell me."

Angelina couldn't help but smile slightly at that, "Yes."

"They say he didn't die well." The Centurion chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head, "Unsurprising to say the least. Always expected that of him."

"Glad I could please."

The Centurion smirked, "You've some fight left. Good. This pleases me - you will be needing every ounce of it left."

The Legion commander paused for dramatic effect as he unfolded his arms from across his wide chest and allowed a smile to cross his face.

"We are to open a gladiatorial arena soon. I think the woman who bested one of the Frumantarii."

"How do you even know about that?"

The Centurion grinned now, "That patrol that caught you, they were no random patrol. We had heard of you, your efforts benefitting the NCR - they were to meet him and collect you."

Angelina cut off a verbal response but realized too late she had already given away her surprise and the Centurion's pleasure showed on his own visage. They had tracked and hunted her like the animal they considered her and then captured her. Now they were going to throw her into the arena and watch her sweat and bleed for their own amustment and there was little to nothing Angelina could do about it. Now that she was firmly in their grasp the only thing Angelina could hope for was as they referred to it a "good death". As good a death as they allowed "profligates".

"When?" Angelina croaked, her voice low and raspy, hardly having spoken since she'd arrived at the horrid slave pen weeks ago.

"We should have a suitable arena built and an opponent soon. We will fetch you when you are needed." The Centurion paused again, looking her over, "Die well, profligate, not many receive the chance to redeem their pitiful ways."

"I'll try to keep that in mind." Angelina murmured, her voice still low and weak, something she hated but couldn't fix like so many other things.

"You are dismissed." He waved her off in as dismissive a manner as he spoke and sat once more at his desk, quickly losing himself in his work.

Angelina proceeded out back to the slave pen on her own knowing full well that if she didn't her collar would detonate as soon as she strayed too far from her designated area, the size of which she didn't know exaclty, and if she tried to do anything else the Legionairies would slaughter her as they had so many others long before she had arrived. Yet again Angelina was reminded of the fact that every day of her life from then on was lived at their mercy and there was nothing she could ever do about it. Returning to the pen Angelina slumped over in a corner and brought her knees up, burying her face in her hands barely able to keep from screaming for the first time in years.


	2. Bleak Existence

The wait for the arena that had been promised to be built hadn't been long but it had seemed both like a life time and yet like it had only taken a day. Whatever the case Angelina knew her time was fast approaching. Whatever happened she wouldn't be the one carried out of the arena, whoever it was unfortunate enough to be pitted against her would be torn apart literally taken apart limb from limb, if that's what would allow her to continue living. Still despite her horrid circumstances something basic deep inside her kept Angelina from giving up and dying entirely. It was that same basic instinct hidden away deep down inside her that mader her clench her machet tightly as she prepared to take her opponent's head off.

Her heart beating fiercely as the crowd cheered and chanted thunderously around the arena Angelina hardly paid attention to them as she stepped into the arena finally wearing nothing more than her slave rags. Her opponent entered across from her and just from the way he carried himself - along with all the insults being thrown his way - Angelina could tell he had been a soldier of the NCR. Who or whatever he had been the man would soon be dead.

Without hesitation Angelina raced across the arena raising the machete high above her head with her uninjured hand, charing her opponent and letting out a fierce war cry at the same time, the man advanced much more slowly and carefully. Angelina met him on the far side of the arena and brought her machete down angled inward at the base of his neck, the man reacted quickly and ducked slightly as he reached up and took hold of Angelina's wrist. Despit her other hand being injured Angelina formed as tight a fist as she could managed and brought it up under his chin before the soldier could counter attack. The connection was satisfying despite the pain and discomfort it caused Angelina and as he reeled back she tore her arm free of his grasp, planted her feet and swung while her enemy was still recovering.

In a split second Angelina's razor sharp machete had cut right through her opponent's arm embedding itself in bone, she had barely realized what had happened at first, the heavy blade easily cutting through flesh as if it hadn't even been in the way nearly cleaving his arm in two.

The soldier let out a howl of pain which only further pleased the crowd and served to fuel their cheering as Angelina ripped her weapon from his mangled arm now gripping it with both hands and bringing it back around to swing at him again. The next blow barely missed as the soldier back pedaled trying to ignore the intense burning in his arm as it hung at his side, useless and bleeding all over, counter attacking with a weak swing that Angelina deflected before stepping in and throwing herself into him. Angelina watched her opponent hit the ground throwing up a cloud of dust and raised her machete once more high above her head and brought it down in another deadly arc.

Angelina brought her weapon down straight into the wounded man's face striking just above his left eye, diagonally across his nose the machete left a severe cut prompting another anguished scream, blood flowing freely as Angelina pulled her weapon free and gave a solid kick to his side. The soldier simply took the blow as blood flowed in rivers all over his face, eyes closed he rolled over onto his side and curled up in pain no longer able to fight or even willing to. Angelina stood above her soon to be dead opponent and watched for a moment before finally delivering another blow to his neck nearly taking his head off.

Raising her bloodied machete and her empty fist in the air Angelina roared victoriously oddly energized by the display of depraved brutality as much as the crowd including the spectating Centurion Tecumseh who applauded the display as readily and eagerly as those around him. Despite Angelina's being a woman a fight was a fight and a dead profligate was still entertaining to them and, whether they admitted it or not, everyone present wished to see the woman who had killed a Frumentarius in action - they had not been disappointed.

As Angelina looked up at Tecumseh who watched with a pleased look on his face she dropped her bload soaked machete and headed back out of the arena. Her first match had ended well, if a bit too quickly for any of the spectators to truly enjoy she wasn't there to please them - at least that wasn't her motivation, it was entirely the reason behind her being there however. Not quite clear headed enough to even begin contemplating such things Angelina simply allowed herself to be lead back to the slave pens where she sat in a corner again trying to regain her composure. It wasn't the fighting or killing that bothered her. As Angelina started to regain her senses it was the fact that she was forced into it and could do nothing to change her situation that bothered her, violence had always been a way of life but it had been on her terms, willfully subjecting herself to such things. Yet again Angelina knew the bitter taste of helplessness and submission and it was a hard pill to swallow.

Tecumseh on the other hand left the arena entirely pleased with Angelina's performance and even surprised; that a profligate could perform so well was surprising, that it was a female profligate doing so was even more astounding to him and everyone else present. It didn't matter however. They had their taste of blood for the time being and their high spirits were kept up by the violent blood soaked display which had been its purpose. Tecumseh had long since learned the power of violence and how to twist it to suit his own needs including the need to keep his men occupied and in high spirits until they were once again called upon to fight. Satisfied with having achieved his goal Tecumseh retired to his office where he would stay for the time being once again returnng to the work of an honored Centurion in Caesar's Legion.

While the Centurion had returned to his duties after being thoroughly entertained at the arena Angelina still remained where she sat in the filthy living space of the slave pens, still barely able to wrap her head around the idea of being stuck there until meeting whatever horrible fate the Legion had in store for her, though she'd heard of how they operated. If the stories were anything to go by they wouldn't bother with anything else, now that she'd fought in the arena that would become her place. Despite being a woman she would meet her end in as violent a manner as anyone else who set foot into the dreaded ring of death. Unless, of course, the Legion decided they tired of her or weren't willing to put up with a woman in the arena - something Angelina had heard never happened. Being the single exception was either a great thing or a horrible one, she wasn't sure and didn't much care to think about it at the time. It was this that Angelina thought about until finally she fell asleep and was allowed to escape everything around her, if only for a short time.

The next morning Angelina was woken abruptly from her sleep by the sounds of yet another person being dragged off literally kicking and screaming to be crucified. She didn't know what they had done having ignored any and all attempts to communicate with her fellow slaves, and didn't care. All Angelina knew was that their horrid screams and shrieks for mercy and help fell on deaf ears and were, perhaps most importantly, depriving her of much needed sleep and rest. That was all that mattered in Angelina's world anymore, whatever it took to survive, the bare essentials. Just like the life she had left behind so many years ago of barely scraping by and scavenging the bombed out irradiated ruins of downtown Washington DC. It was something Angelina was could at and almost the only thing. All her skills in the end went back to simple survival, she had just learned how to put them to use properly and make a real life for herself in the wasteland instead of barely scraping by, but they were still in the end nothing more than a means of survival. Constantly fighting from day to day just to live for another day, to see another day, and to eventually have nothing when it all came to an end. Her life would mean nothing. All Angelina was was a hunk of meat both to the Legion and those around her and ultimately to herself as well. This simple realization she was forced to confront was taking its toll but there was no alcohol to drown herself in this time only more misery.

It was in this state of miserable self loathing that Tecumseh found Angelina as he approached the slave pens something he rarely did. Centurion were above even pestering, torturing and murdering slaves. It was only ever done for their amusement or if ordered to, never simply to keep the slaves in line and teach them their place - that was the work of their subordinates. Still Tecumseh couldn't help but be intrigued by Angelina as he decided during his approach that letting a woman enter the arena, while surely a controversial decision, had been a good one none the less. The crowds would cheer more loudly and joyfully than they ever had before when such a fierce killer of the Frumentarii had been slaughtered and torn apart like the savage animal she was.

Tecumseh stopped suddenly beside the slave pens and stared into them blankly upon realizing what he had been thinking and quickly banished the thought. The dissolute and their ilk were not only not worth the time it took to consider them but he would not allow himself to even begin praising them however vaguely he may have done so.

"Woman." He spoke as evenly as ever, his voice easily audible over whatever else might have been going on in the area, carrying a distinct note of absolute confidence and control, "Rise."

Somehow Angelina knew the statement was meant for her and could already recognize Tecumseh's voice though she had only ever dealt with him once before her match in the arena. Still she didn't do as he said immediately, which normally would have been a very grave mistake, but apparently as she started to get to her feet it had been quickly enough that the Centurion didn't care. Angelina turned to face the man in his spectacular armor and observed him carefully as he returned the observant gaze.

"You are oddly skilled - for a profligate. For a _woman_." Tecumseh paused for just a moment before going on, "Tell me, do we have another filthy female soldier of the NCR in our ranks? The rumors said nothing of this."

"No." Angelina stated simply as their eyes met and she resisted the urge to back away and adopt a fighting stance, his gaze both sharp and, to most, frightening.

"Then what?" Tecumseh snapped in the usual impatient manner of one from the Legion dealt with outsiders, "Where have you acquired such ill suited skills? You should not be on the field of battle, and you claim to not be, and yet you fight as if you hae seen many campaigns."

"Gained all that from just that?"

"I pride myself on my keen observational skills and abilities." Tecumseh shot back, unsure if she was being sarcastic but making sure she knew never to adopt such a tone again with him, "I have seen many men - and even women - fight. Both untrained savages and even some who believe themselves to be well trained. All have fallen before the might Legion."

"I come from far to the east." Angelina spoke slightly more clearly than before, her voice just ever so slightly more audible, "There people must... learn to fight."

Tecumseh snorted, "The east? We _are_ the east. Surely I would know of someone who escaped our might wrath to enemy territory."

"Further east." Angelina corrected before he could go on, "Much futher. DC."

Tecumseh couldn't help but allow an ever so small amount of surprise, ever so slight, to show on his face. He had never heard of anyone crossing the great irradiated expanse of the former United States Of America and yet here was a slave in his very own camp telling him that she had done so as if it was no great feat, no major effort, as if she had simply decided to up and leave one day and had done so. Before Tecumseh could even begin to form a reply or figure out how to feel about the situation Angelina had started speaking again.

"I came in from the north. Directly into NCR territory." She failed to mention that she had done so after first starting to hear stories of the Legion and deciding avoiding their territory was in her best interest.

"Ah, then if you are truly from the far east as you say that would certainly explain things, though I doubt very much that you are."

"Can't handle a woman being tougher than all of you?" Angelina smirked suddenly and Tecumseh's face contorted in pure unbridled rage.

"Never speak to me in such a manner!" Tecumseh swung his fist into the mesh link fence, "Ever! Or I will have you crucified, filthy profligate! Disgusting degenerate wench, I will laugh as you slowly wither and die upon the cross!"

As Angelina recoiled from the fence nearly struck by it and Tecumseh's fist she couldn't help but ball her hands into fists instinctively before dropping them to herself, still keeping them clenched tightly, realiing so long as they were seperated by the fencing she didn't need to worry about fighting him off. She had learned a valuable lesson however just like she had learned her life was completely and entirely worthless. This time Angelina had learned that Tecumseh was an easily angered man and that meant he was even quicker to violence than the rest of the Legion who were already all too willing to brutally slaughter anyone they deemed necessary. Stowing the valuable lesson away in her mental databank Angelina eyed the Centurion carefully and watched as he quickly regained his composure.

"So. You are not an NCR dog, fighting under the banner of the bear, how... disappointing. Still, I look forward to your death. And with that, I bid you vale."

Tecumseh turned and left once more still enraged and eager to see Angelina's blood spilled for her insult. For now however he had more important things to do and instead as he returned to his office informed the Legionary in charge of the slave pens to make sure Angelina saw no peaceful moment to rest for the entirety of the day and so he did. For hours on end the Legionary never faltered, never hesitated, and never stopped. He constantly banged on the pen fences and shouted at Angelina, and even when he didn't he continued to speak as his voice grew worn and raspy, continously chiding, scolding, taunting and insulting. The seemingly endless assault finally ceased as the Legionary took it upon himself to take the punishment further; his Centurion had ordered that Angelina not be allowed to rest for the entirety of the day and that he should not allow her to see a single peaceful moment. His Centurion had never told him how however.

Opening the gate to the slave pen Angelina was held in and stepping inside another Legionary quickly stepped inside with him knowing what was coming and wanting in on the violence, yet another standing guard at the still open gate behind them, machete in hand, reminding the slaves that even if they didn't have slave collars on they would not escape. None of them would ever even come close.

Angelina faced the two advancing men in crimson and readied herself for a fight, knowing whether or not she fought back it may end with her dead or far worse. Keeping that motivation in mind, her heart racing already as adrenaline shot through her Angelina stepped forward and threw the first punch catching the first Legionary in the side but he hardly reacted, Angelina had struck his armor and instead injured her hand. The Legionary closed what little room there was left between them and his hand shot to her throat while the other gripped her right wrist, keeping her from fighting effectively. The two struggled for a moment as the man's companion advanced on the other side but before he could do anything Angelina tripped and fell, the first Legionary falling roughly on top of her knocking the wind out of her instantly.

It was in this weakened state that the standing Legionary delivered a hard kick to her head, and then another followed quickly by bringing his boot down on her face, his companion still wrestling with the resiliant but failing wastelander. The beating continued as Angelina struggled to defend herself and everyone simply watched, the man atop her tightening his grip on her throat and striking her several times, in the face, chest, where he could manage as she returned the favor but failed to get out from under him.

The attack continued as the Legionary atop Angelina pinned her to the ground while his companion attempted to gain control of her, and suddenly she knew, the thought barely registering in her adrenaline soaked mind, what was about to happen. There was almost nothing Angelina could do, she was barely in any shape to be fighting at all let alone with multiple opponents and her relatively minor wounds were already slowing her down. Already the pain from the bruises and cuts and the constant beating was wearing her out and swinging back was replaced by covering up and avoiding being beaten unconcious or even to death which was proving increasingly difficult as both Legionaries continued striking her.

Suddenly as this was going on Angelina removed her arms from where they were protecting her face and head and was ready to start swinging during the pause in the attack but found herself unable; the standing Legionary stepped on her left wrist pinning it and reached over taking hold of her right hand as well and together he and his companion took hold of her and despite her best efforts managed to restrain the thrashing slave well enough to carry her off. It was all Angelina could to do continue thrashing around as violently as possible and whilst doing so she realized she had started screaming, raw, hoarse screams of anger and terror but no words came out - simply noise. Guttural, barbaric, animalistic sounds of anger and worry causing her throat to feel as if it might start bleeding and her lungs like they were on fire, but for all the screaming, all of her effort, Angelina couldn't stop what came next as they hauled her off out of sight of the slave pens where her screams could still be heard.

After the Legionaries had finished with their horrific task they literally dragged a barely resisting Angelina back to the pens and thrown her in where she lay hardly moving, murmuring to herself on occasion, though no one caught what she said nor did they care to know. And as they all went about their business once more like nothing at all had happened Angelina sat there staring at the dirt, motionless, entirely aware of the fact that she was completely at their mercy. Nothing was under her control anymore and the Legion owned her just as they had insisted. All of her fighting all of her life, all of the things she had overcome had only served to lead her where she was, and no amount of fighting after that would change what she now was. Property. Nothing more than a slave to be used for their amusement and thrown away when they tired of her. It was with this realization that whatever humanity and decency remained in Angelina died. Wallowing in sorrow and contemplating this turn of events staying up all night with the day's events keeping her from falling asleep even more a moment.

It was in this pathetic state of shock that Centurion Tecumseh found Angelina when he came and smiled to himself as he stopped beside slave pen and observed the slaves who all cowered in fear and moved away from the fence he was standing beside. Fear filled their eyes and satisfaction filled him, easily seeing just how cowardly and afraid they were of him. The more scared his presence made them the better and from what he could tell Angelina had learned her lesson as well and he didn't doubt that her lesson had served to teach the rest of the slaves their place as well.

"Rise."

Angelina barely turned her head without lifting it to look up at Tecumseh from where she lay in the dirt, not speaking as she stared up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"You will fight again." He smirked, "Rise."

Angelina didn't move for a moment almost unable to but finally found herself struggling to push herself up to her feet and standing before him in her filthy slave rags like the obedient little slave she was simply waiting for further orders.

"Good, good, you've some fight left in you." Tecumseh gave a curt nod of approval, "Hopefully the same can be said for your next opponent, the last was rather disappointing."

Angelina simply stared at Tecumseh, or ratherh is suit of armor, head tilted slighlty gazing at his still unstained armor - quite possibly a Centurions most cherished possession. It was a symbol of status, of bravery and loyalty to Caesar above all else. Turning to leave the slave pen as Tecumseh motioned for a Legionary to open the gate she slowly stepped outside and headed toward the arena still gazing down at the ground blankly, almost completely devoid of thought or feeling. Angelina simply went through the motions now and headed toward the arena ready for another round of senseless slaughter now neither welcoming death nor shunning it. Whatever occured within the arena's walls was of no importance. Life and death were both equally miserably, equally painful, and equally disgusting.

As she was given her machete for the next match Angelina stepped into the arena unceremmoniously and found herself facing another slave who, though she didn't know it, had been there for quite some time and had grown nearly as weary and broken down as she - and was equally as violent and deadly especially after her time in the company of the Legion. Angelina didn't know or care about any of that. She didn't care about living let alone what her opponent was like. In battle it wouldn't matter, Angeilna would yet again prove stronger, tougher, harder, more violent, more disgusting, more anything than anyone else. She would tear their throats out with her teeth and feast on their life fluids. That was all that was left of her. The drive to fight and kill and survive even now that she'd been so easily broken. It was all that was left, the Legion had easily wiped away what they had deemed to be degenerate qualities leaving only the most basic instincts within her and Angelina didn't mind, didn't care. She simply saught to act upon them. To fulfill her urge to draw blood - and so she did.

The two slave women went straight for each other without hesitation locking eyes and blades as they started swinging widly their blades meeting in loud clashes that rang out over the shotuing and cheering of the crowd. Despite their best efforts the women couldn't seem to put a scratch on the other at first until Angelina charged her opponent who quickly brought her knee up and jammed it forcefully into Angelina's unprotected stomach, machete held with both hands high over her head.

Angelina doubled over painfully her old gunshot wound to her ribs being struck by the blow stalling her long enough for her opponent to bring her own elbow back against the back of Angelina's head snapping it forward before she hit the ground. Rolling over and out of the way Angelina barely avoided having a machete implanted in the back of her neck which would have definitely been enough to kill her, when she stopped she was laying supine and brought her foot up hard into her opponent's stomach stopping her dead in her tracks.

The move bought Angelina enough time to scramble to her feet still in pain from the entirety of her short stay in the Legion camp and her old wounds were starting to act up from all the strain she had been put under recently. Despite that Angelina managed to react quickly enough to dodge the next swing that was aimed at her side, the miss threw her opponent off balance and Angelina took advantage as she grabbed the woman's wrist and pulled her forward throwing her to the ground kicking up a cloud of dust.

Angelina quickly followed up with a kick to the woman's side keeping her on the ground long enough to bring her machete down though it missed its mark and sunk into her shoulder blade instead of taking her head off at the neck; the blow dropped the woman back to the ground yet again as she struggled to get up and Angelina pressed her bare foot against the woman's back while trying to dig her machete out from her back.

Pulling the weapon free with a sickening sound Angelina couldn't have described with all the words in her vocabulary the sensation of tearing the machete free and hearing it rip through skin and bone was none the less satisfying and digusting at the same time. As soon as she'd torn her weapon free from her opponent's body Angelina set about her attack again only to find a searing hot pain in her rifle shin as she drove the machete into the injured woman's back. Without looking down Angelina stepped away and felt the machete leave her leg, glancing down as she kept putting space betwen her and her enemy she realized the half hearted swing had been with the woman's injured arm and had barely done any damage though her wound was still bleeding steadily.

Ignoring the wound Angelina turned her attention back to her opponent who had barely managed to get back to her feet, switching her own machete over to her weak hand and attempting to fend off Angelina's series of rapid vicious attacks which saw her being wounded several more times before Angelina stuck her machete in the woman's thigh. In an instant Angelina had decided to let go of the machete and instead tackle her opponent, firmly wrapping her hands around the woman's throat and beginning to slam her head against the ground while choking the life out of her, watching as her dazed and confused face slowly died out and became expressionless, and then it was over yet again. Angelina had survived for just anther day even if it wasn't worth it, even if it was a day she would absolutely hate with every last fiber of her being. She had won the dubious prize of living just another day.

Whether or not Angelina would enjoy the day she had earned in blood and sweat she yet again left the arena unarmed, tired and sore and in desperate need of sleep and rest, though as she mindlessly wandered back to her cage like the helpless animal she was Angelina could barely think about anything other than collapsing, falling asleep and hopefully being able to rest for one since her arrival in the city though she knew there likely would be no rest of any kind. She was the Legion's play thing and play with her they did in whichever way their twisted minds pleased at the moment and when they commanded her to dance she did, when they said jump she did - there was no asking how high. If it wasn't high enough she'd know in the short amount of time it took to remove her head from her body she'd know.

Angelina didn't bother thinking about any of that as she collapsed back into what had become her corner and sat as catatonic as the last day until Tecumseh had come to retrieve her, taking what sick pleasure in doing so personally and seeing her squirm, unable to change her fate. That didn't matter to Angelina as she had found her purpose in life. To entertain the Legion until her last day, her last breath, to be thrown into the arena time and again and to die there. It was all she was good for. That was all that mattered. Yet again as those things dominated her thoughts Angelina fell into a fitful but much needed sleep and did not wake until the next day.

When Angelina did wake it was on her own, a surprising change from the last couple of mornings, but she would have been more pleased with not waking up so early - or even not waking up at all. Things would have been much easier that way but yet again the most primal of urges to simply survive had its way and she was up before noon. Normally Angelina would have gone about her usual routine of having a couple of drinks and then heading out into the wasteland to make her living, however that may be - she had taken up working as a bounty hunter upon arriving in the Mojave which had turned out to be a horrible mistake. Angelina couldn't help but contemplate that as she sat in her corner again simply watching everything going on around her uninterested in any of it. She had fled the Capital Wasteland in order to change her life but in the end she hadn't changed much if at all. Being a bounty hunter hadn't been much different than being a mercenary, the only difference being working as a bounty hunter offered slightly less variety in the violence. It was, however, still violence on a grand scale. It had all only served to get her across the country where Angelina now found herself penned up like the animal she was, treated only as she had ever deserved to be - like she had practically begged to be.

Angelina continued wallowing in her now usual way until finally Tecumseh appeared before her starting to make his appearances at the slave pens oddly common. She didn't question it and hardly cared. Neither said much or acknowledged the other for a few moments as the feared Centurion looked over the slaves. Finally he spoke and yet again told Angelina to rise but spoke no further as she slowly, weakly got to her feet and shuffled out of her cage, bandaging sloppily wound around her filthy leg wound. Expecting to be thrown into the arena again against whatever unfortunate slave had been chosen to be her next victim in the endless slaughter Angelina was rather surprised when Tecumseh stopped her.

"Profligate, you haven't another opponent just yet. You will revel in the glory of combat soon enough, but for now, I must speak to you."

Angelina stared at the Centurion in his magnificent armor blankly, her eyes scanning his face and the rest of him out of habit, not finding a single thing out of place nor any sign of weakness or doubt within him. If there were such things inside Tecumseh the great and feared Centurion hid it well deep down inside where no one would ever see, where they would never know, presenting himself as yet another perfect soldier of the Legion.

"It is about your time here. You know women do not fight in the arena let alone in the Legion." Tecumseh paused, "Yet I have seen fit to make an exception for you and your last opponent. You are both filthy dogs like your debased and corrupt men. You deserve such an agonizing and bloody existence and death as much as they."

Angelina didn't even have to bite back a sarcastic question as to what the Centurion's point was. She didn't have the energy nor the will and if she'd had eitehr of those things all the sarcasm and venom in hr had seemingly disappeared, evaporating in the desert heat. Angelina just waited.

"And I know just how much everyone enjoys watching the great Frumentarius killer fighting, both men and her fellow pot scrubbing scum." Tecumseh smirked as the words slipped out of his mouth, watching Angelina's blank face but knowing inside her mind they were having the desired effect, "Do well and you may just receive more than the cleansing glory of killing fellow degenerate waste scum."

Angelina couldn't help but let her eyes grow wider or at least wider, ever so slightly, giving away her surprise. The sign of weakness was quickly suppressed as she realized what had happened - and that the Centurion was likely playing with her agian. She had come to the realization that not only was she the Legion's latest, greatest play thing but she was also Tecumseh's own little pet to beat senseless whenever he felt bored or particularly brutal. That was all Angelina amounted to and yet again she was reminded of just how worthless her life was and always had been, that it had all only served one purporse, to get her where she was - where she now got what she deserved. All that she had ever deserved. For every life Angelina had taken, innocent or otherwise, she would be thrown into battle to suffer wounds until she was finally struck down for her crimes, for every sick, debased, debauched and corrupt thing that had ever occured in her life she would be whipped, tortured, poked and prodded and made to be miserable and restless. There was nothing she could or would attempt to do other than simply take it and move on with her pathetic life until it all came to a likely violent and painful end.

"Dismissed." Tecumseh practically spat the word out into her face before turning and leaving.

Angelina did the same and returned to her cage, sitting in the corner as she had taken to doing, knowing it was her place and she belonged there. It didn't even bother her anymore, the pain and misery were as uncomfortable and hated as ever but Angelina had ceased to care during her short stay with the Legion. She certainly didn't care about what Tecumseh had said. It was nothing more than bait and she wasn't going to fall for it, she wouldn't bite, no matter how tempting it would have been to anyone else. There was no prize, no future, nothing to look forward to save for a better death than those who were crucified or otherwise died horribly and she knew she couldn't trust the Legion to give her even that much.

Instead of some great prize Angelina instead waited for her next battle. That was all that was certain, battle and death, all else ceased to matter in light of that. Battle was all that awaited her and that only lead to death, whether hers or someone elses it would always only lead to death, and eventually it would be her turn to die. It would be welcome as if waking from a bad dream. Death was the final and most welcome of all burdens and was pleasantly unescapable, the only thing forced upon someone from the beginning of life that, while painful in many situations, only served to end further suffering.

It didn't matter what Angelina thought of anything however as it wouldn't stop it or make it any better, wouldn't stop the man being dragged off to be crucified from meeting his fate, wouldn't make it any better. Yet it was all Angelina could think about. Everywhere she looked, everything she did, it was there. The hopeless inevitability. The yawning abyss waiting for her to fall in. It was repulsive yet attractive. It dominated and consumed her. It became everything as it always had been, swallowing all that was created as surely as all that had come before it, all that had come before Angelina just a surely as it would all that came after her.

Angelina kept herself busy contemplating these dark thoughts and little if anyting else as the other slaves and captures went about their moaning and groaning, complaining and speaking of nothing important at all. Occasionally a Legionary would step over to the pens adn bang on them commanding the slaves to keep quiet if they got too loud or otherwise looked too pleased with themselves and forgot the miserable conditions they existed in. It was their job after all to constantly and endlessly remind them that they were filth and they belonged to the Legion and to hopefully cure them of their horrid ways before they died. Even a slave was a step above their free brethren, dissolute and without morals or any guiding code to control them, no restraint. Angelina was in her mind already a step above even the slaves however as they rarely if ever acepted their place in the world and how they all in the end played their role however small. They were slaves to the far superior Legion who required their continued servile existence so that they could go out and busy themselves with cleansing the wasteland and uniting it under the gold and crimson banner of Caesar's Legion the great and almighty, powerful bull rampaging through the wastes shaping history and creating a new nation in the horrid irradiated wastes.

Instead of complaining and fighting back against what was only natural and made sense Angelina had already come to accept her place. She was a slave, entertainment, nothing more. They all on the other hand were average slaves and provided other services only occasionally being thrown into the arena to keep the Legion entertained. The only relief from such an existence would be death and Angelina wouldn't trick herself into believing otherwise.


	3. Continued Misery

Angelina had surprisinglly found the next few days in the Legion camp pleasant at least by their torturous standards which wasn't saying much and would only serve to get her hopes up if she allowed it but she knew better. Things would only go back to normal or get even worse. There was no less horrible and certainly no future. If there was it was no future Angelina wanted to be a part of, she had let the one and only single thing she had ever promised herself would never happen again to occur. She had failed in the most pathetic of ways, completely helpless and unable to do anything. None the less she couldn't help but notice something was indeed going on and had caused the change and that was when she started to catch on, her suspicions fueled by whispered rumors among the slaves that she overheard. The Legion was on the war path. Centurion Tecumseh had received his reinforcements during the night before as they slept.

Early in the morning waking them all war drums began pounding sounding off signals of war accompanied by the thunderous sound of hordes of Legionaries moving as one, chanting loudly getting themselves worked up and motivated for the cruel and insane things to come. They would be staring death in the face and showing it to their enemies as well, making them intimately acquainted with it.

It was during this great display that the slaves barely managed to catch from where they were that Angelina and several others were forcefully pulled out of their cages and literally dragged along the rough ground toward the center of the camp. Angelina offered no resistance, only going limp to offer no resistance rather than to weight down her owners. Eventually they were all made to kneel in the center of the camp before the amassed Legion forces, Centurion Tecumseh standing behind them all as he spoke in a loud comanding voice that demanded fear and respect making several of the slaves whimper as he began.

"Mighty forces of the great Caesar! Fearless warriors of the Legion! Today is the day in which we meet our destiny, that destiny is to drive the pitiful degenerates back across the massive Colorado!"

The Legion roared as one and a thunderous cheer went up blood lust and violent intent clear in their voices even as they shouted nothing more than animalistic noises in unision, words becoming completely unnecessary and even incapable of carrying quite the same emotion and strength.

"Today, we make a sacrifice! May the mighty god of war Ares smile down upon us!"

Another cheer went up as Tecumseh drew his sword and took off a slave's head all in one smooth motion, instantly killing the woman beside Angelina though she didn't flinch even as blood sprayed across her side and even on her face. The body slumped over, head rolling off in front of them, blood beginning to pool around Angelina. Next was the man on the other side of Angelina who fell over much the same way as his head rolled roughly a foot before coming to a stop. This didn't faze her either and she simply waited staring blankly out into the crowd as two more of the small group were slaughtered for the Legion's amusement but their sacrifice wasn't complete just yet. Tecumseh came to a halt behind Angelina once again as he began to speak once more.

"Behold! These lucky few, they shall fight to the last in the arena! For our amusement for our sacrifice! Die well, slaves!"

Angelina suddenly found herself being pulled up to her feet and dragged along to the arena where Tecumseh wielded the later Curtis' war club one handed as if it weighted nothing at all.

"Die well." Was all he offered along with the weapon.

Angelina, the semi-legendary Frumentarius killer, took the weapon and set foot in the arena once more. She was tired, beaten senseless and hardly in any condition to be fighting yet again, her broken hand still not fully healed and unlikely to heal properly wen it was and in her ragged state her old wounds were once more acting up. It was all she could do to even stay on her feet and maintain a tight grip on ther club. Whatever her condition Angelina would go down swinging and maim, cripple, crush, kill and destroy until they put an end to her.

Charging out into the field of battle as her three competitors headed out much more hesitantly Angelina drew close to one and started swinging her deadly blunt weapon of war, going low and striking the side of her opponent's leg the man had his leg taken out from under him with a loud cracking sound and fell hard on his back. Angelina brought her club up around in a circular motion holding it over her head for an ever so brief moment before swinging it in a downward arc impacting with great force the solid weapon easily shattered her opponent's knee crushing bone and mangling his leg with ease.

Spinning into a turn Angelina swung her mighty weapon once again at another opponent, the two cowardly slaves had wordlessly decided to team up and work against the heavily armed wild woman and one of them earned a broken arm just above the elbow as they were thrown to the ground in a heap. The other was lucky and barely caught Angelina with the tip of their machete blade - but only barely - leaving a small irrelevant cut on her bicep as Angelina took a step back and prepared her might weapon once more. The third opponent, a woman, suffered possibly the worst of them all as Angelina swung high and widly; the end of the club caught the woman in the chin and could be heard crush, breaking, misaligning and otherwise rearranging her face as she two went down, Angelina quickly turning on the first man she had injured who had crawled away, propped himself up against the arena walls and gripped his machete tightly as he watched in fear and agony.

Angelina quickly closed the gap between them and as the injured man took a swing she took a step back, then stepped forward and forcefully slammed the bottom of her foot into his nose. Before the full effect of the painful blow could be felt she started to swing again and slammed her club into the front of his face destroying it and smashing his head between it and the wall.

The crowd only cheered louder at the first extremely violent and satisfyingly bloody death of one of the slaves eager for more and yet hoping the battle, or rather the slaughter, would last just a bit longer. Long enough for them to properly enjoy the viciousness of it all. Sadly for them it didn't and already Angelina had returned and crushed the wounded woman's head in front of the last remaining opponent who had only now returned to his feet and tightly gripped his machete ready to fight but knowing he likely wouldn't make it out alive. Regardless he charged Angelina and paid for it dearly before he could bring his machete down on her the experienced female warrior had taken her club to his exposed sized and crushed several ribs as she threw him to the ground a second time. While he was on the ground Angelina delivered the final killing blow without hesitationg and it was over. She had won yet another pointless fight that only served to let her live another equally pointless day, or so she thought as she left the arena, dropping her club along the way far too tired to carry on.

Tecumseh simply watched from where he stood rather amused and pleased with the display as he had come to expect to be whenever Angelina was involved. She had proven herself to be far superior to other degenerate scum but that was for another time. He would give her the reward that had been promised when he returned from his own glorious battle for the time being he turned and ralliedh is men to him and headed out while Angelina instead returned to the slave pens and passed out in exhaustion.

For two days Angelina rested and was hardly bothered as she remained pent up in the slave pens, hating every last horrible minute of her existence within her cage but accepting it none the less, calmly dealing with it by simply sitting in the corner all day and doing nothing for there was nothing to do, nothing of consequence at any rate and she refused to mindlessly waste time and energy alike just as her fellow slaves did.

It was during these two days after her last battle in the arena that Centurion Tecumseh had gone back out onto the frontlines as he and his men had longed to do and fought the NCR at first driving them back toward the Colorado; his temporary success however proved just that and he was slowly but steadily sent back toward his camp. The NCR however, eager to continue pressing their advantage,failed to realize that despite driving Tecumseh back nearly to his camp they had actually been drawn into a trap and soon found themselves out flanked and nearly surrounded. Either Tecumseh would encircle them completely or they would be driven back into and across the river, if they were fortunate enough to survive the crossing.

From where she sat in the slave pens Angelina couldn't help but imagine what that would be like - what the battle itself was like, teaased by the sounds of distant battle; screams of sheer agony and pain, barely audible at times over all the gunfire and explosions, every now and then Angelina wondered what it would have been like to wrap her hands around the throat of an NCR soldier and watch the life drain from their eyes slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left. As it stood she wouldn't get that wonderful opportunity nor was Angelina sure she would even be able to had she not been enslaved, she had been fatigued and barely made it out of her last match in the arena combined with her latest leg wound - which still pained her - her situation wasn't looking too good.

Angelina's mind began wandering slightly from the still on going battle to her own battle which was still going on as well. If her other recent injuries weren't a concern her leg and hand were; one had resulted in a limp that would have cost her had she not been fighting incompetent opponents thus far, the other kept her from properly performing many tasks. It still pained her to form a fist, keeping her from striking someone, from properly gripping anything with both hands. She was slowly but surely being crippled and the lack of any real care for the slaves was making it worse, their "doctor" was a fellow slave who whispered rumors said may have been a wasteland doctor in the past life. Angelina didn't know how true that was, flexing her injured hand gently as she stared down at it in her lap, but they surely hadn't been a good one - hadn't been a Follower. If they had been they surely would have been crucified or whatever other cruel and unusual punishments the Legion had up their non-existent sleeves. Whatever their past Angelina knew she couldn't expect to be taken care of and decided she would have to excercise at least some caution from there on out, if only so she wasn't judged useless and incapable of functioning and killed with everyone else.

All these thoughts continued to occupy Angelina's mind as she waited as patiently as possible for Centurion Tecumseh to return victorious. She hadn't had any experience with the Legion before being captured but already could see there was nothing the NCR could do to truly beat them back, nothing they were willing to do. They either fought with the same total war methods or they were already destined to lose. All there was to do was sit and wait for that to happen and so Angelina did until they could all hear and evnetually see Tecumseh marching back victorious two days later.

Tecumseh's return could mean only one thing and that was that the NCR forces had been routed, otherwise he wouldn't have returned at all knowing the penalty for failure. In his wake followed Tecumseh's victorious forces who dragged along with them very few NCR captures. Over the course of the day Angelina would come to learn just how badly the NCR had been beaten back, outsmarted and wiped out, all but the few that had been brought back had been slaughtered. They hadn't made it back to the Colorado let alone across it instead eventually becoming bogged down and surrounded, that was when the real massacre began and no one had walked away.

It was also during the course of that day as Angelina regained her energy and recovered from her injuries further that she heard further whispers of what had happened, that not all of the Legion had returned and they were already setting up bases further ahead. Preparing to close in on the Colorado once more. Whatever had happened none of the slaves could be sure and so Angelina tried not to think about it though she found the idea rather pleasing. She had quickly come around to the Legion's way of thinking and according to them the NCR needed to be destroyed, and so it was, and so they would be.

It wasn't until another two days later that Tecumseh finally showed up at the slave pens once more and beckoned Angelina again, everyone else as usual staying as far away from him as possible when he approached.

"Ah good, you haven't succumbed just yet." Tecumseh glanced down at Angelina's leg wound which seemed to have avoided becoming infected thus far, "Good."

Angelina simply stared ahead as he spoke keeping from matching his gaze but never actually looking away either. She stood there staring at him as the Centurion paused before going on.

"This is most pleasing. One more, profligate. One more and perhaps, I think, you will have your reward. But not yet."

Tecumseh allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction as he watched Angelina though he saw no sign of it bothering her now he knew deep inside it did, he got to everyone, he made sure of that. No one that had ever entered his camps without being broken and Angelina was no different. She had been brought in and destroyed, her will crushed entirely, and in record time it seemed.

Without another word Tecumseh left Angelina standing there watching as he departed. With the recent advance and reconquering of lost lands Tecumseh had much to do, much to prepare for, soon he would be marching to the river and likely across it once more. Until he was given the order however Tecumseh had to prepare and ready his troops for that next move, keeping them ready to move out at any moment. While planning for all of that however Tecumseh of course contemplated what exactly to do with Angelina. He already had an idea in mind but perhaps he would decide on something else, depending on how she performed in her next bout in the arena. That was still a ways off however ast he new arrivals had yet to be broken down and made ready to be slaughtered by the already well known Frumentarius killer.

Angelina on the other hand found herself growing restless, disturbed by the promise of some sort of reward or prize which she told herself didn't exist. The idea that it might still lingered in her mind however no matter how hard she tried to rid herself of it. No matter what Angelina always went back to it. While struggling to deal with this Angelina had finally broke her silence and isolation from the other slaves. She had dealt with them as little and curtly as possible but had found it impossible to not inquire as to if there had ever been any such occasion before.

As Angelina had expected she was informed that there had never been a single instance of any slaves being rewarded in any way, shape or form. The only such things they received were quick deaths, which Angelina wasn't looking for, but as soon as she got her answer no matter how the slaves pried she remained silent. Listening to their constant whispering and chattering was bad enough now she had them trying to get her to speak once more, to find out more, only knowing what she knew yet believing her to hold some information or other that they didn't.

Despite their best efforts Angelina was determined to remain silent and did so until two days had passed and she was finally summoned to the arena once more, limping slightly from her wound which was a thankfully dull yet persistent pain now. She had largely recovered however, enough so that she was confident in her ability. Whichever of the new arrivals had been chosen to be pitted against her wouldn't limp away but rather be dragged out and thrown into the desert to rot just as they deserved.

Stepping back into the arena once more armed with the club she had taken from Curtis instead of a machete Angelina gripped it as tightly as she could with her injured hand. Staring straight ahead, her face blank Angelina stared down one of the male soldiers that had been captured. Oddly he didn't look too fearful, almost comfortable, Angelina decided quickly that he hadn't realized even if he won nothing good would come of it. He just like she would just live to fight another way. Angelina had already come to that conclusion and charged into battle only somewhat more cautiously than before, knowing that if she died it would actually be better than living, swinging her deadly club without pause never giving her opponent a chance to react.

The soldier started ducking and weaving avoiding every blow, preparing to strike carefully, waiting for an opening that wouldn't result in his head being caved in as he pulled away. Angelina was almost as cautious but remained ont he offensive and swung continously. Keeping him off balance and eventually taking her opponent out without a fight was preferred over allowing him to fight back and learning if he really was more capable than her other victims.

The man's ability and willingness to fight and kill so that he might be the one to walk away from the fight didn't matter and didn't even factor into Angelina's thoughts and expectations. He would be crushed by her mighty club like all those before him had died their equally bloody and violent deaths. There was nothing special about him. He was another slave. Another number. Another body tossed in a mass grave of unwashed, unlcean, debased and unwanted heathens and degenerates. She too would meet that same exact fate eventually but Angelina had no intentions of letting that happen just yet.

Caught up in her murderous thoughts Angelina failed to catch the next attack in time and the man lashed out - not with his machete but with his leg, kicking her own injured leg out from under her. Angelina hit the dirt with a pained but mostly angry look on her face, baring her clenched teeth, practically snarling up at her opponent as she rolled back and into a low crouch.

Ignoring the pain in her shin as best she could Angelina launched herself at the still attacking man and lunged forward, holding her mighty club in both hands horizontally. The club struck her target just above the waist with enough force to nearly break bone and sent them both to the ground once more, rolling around and struggling; he'd lost his machete but had taken hold of the club despite the pain they were both in it proved to be an even match. It was even at least until Angelina let go with her weak hand and brought her elbow-forearm crashing down onto her opponent's nose breaking it almost without any effort at all; only encouraged by blood pouring out all over his face beneath her Angelina struck again and again, then once more with a rough punch to his still exposed face.

Finally content with how she'd rearranged her opponent's face Angelina tore her club from his grasp and brought it down upon his head as quickly as she could, moved, set her feet and brought it down again on his chest. Both resulted in horrible cracking sounds the likes of which she couldn't recall ever hearing - there certainly were few things that could make any decent person feel so sick. Angelina wasn't decent however and by no means felt sick over what she'd just seen, done and heard. To her those were unknown things especially now. She just simply lived, went on with her life, and that was that.

Breathing heavily as she stood victorious Angelina looked to Tecumseh who simply returned her stare with a pleased and amused look on his face. She turend after a moment and left. Back to the cages with her it seemed. She hadn't believed his lies about any sort of reward awaiting her in the first place but still felt oddly disappointed. If nothing else his appearances broke up the mind numbingly boring routine of slavery. Angelina wasn't even allowed to work her days away as other slaves did as she was a dedicated source of amusement for her captors and pain for her fellow slaves. At least those unfortuante enough to face her in the arena. The bodies were beginning to pile up but she didn't mind.

As she exited the arena Angelina was oddly but not quite pleasantly surprised to hear of Tecumseh wishing to speak to her which Angelina hadn't expected at all. He hadn't always seemed entirely pleased with her and she already hadn't expected any of his promises to carry any weight. Perhaps she would start taking him at his word, or at least a little more seriously, but that was yet to be determined. Whatever it was he wanted to see her about Angelina headed toward his office unaccompanied which was still rather strange. Her slave collar had even been removed rather early on a fact which Angelina had quickly picked up on. Tecumseh clearly trusted his training for lack of a better word to keep her from doing anything particularly foolish and he had been right to.

Stepping into the office Angelina found the Centurion behind his desk and paying absolutely no attention to her for a moment as he scribbled something onto a piece of paper, stood and then finally looked at here. It was only then that Angelina paid particular attention to it but Tecumseh for all his intimidating tactics and appearance wasn't quite as huge as he seemed. It was the armor that made him seem so. Still he towered over everyone and looked down upon them both literally and metaphorically and, if the stories were to be believed, he was brutal and barbaric enough to make up for not being qutie as gargantuan as he seemed.

"Come." Tecumseh beckoned her, motioning for Angelina to approach his desk.

She did so without a word and stood silently before him in her filthy slave rags which were as always adorned with a red X over the torso, hers still relatively fresh and dark though in time it would become as worn out, faded and nearly invisible as the older slaves. It didn't much matter. Slaves were easily visible without the marking and rarely if ever attempted to escape. It seemed to be more to remind them of their place in the world, their lowly status, and to further humilate them than anythign else.

"You have done well for yourself, surprising - for both one who is as corrupt as you, and a woman as well."

The words hardly stung if they did at all. Angelina didn't show it if they did. She stood and took the insulting comment silently without any sort of visible reaction.

"As promised, you will be rewarded. I've decided it only seems right. A wonderful slave such as yourself only deserves it." Tecumseh paused, "You've learned your place faster than any others I've ever seen, I dare say, and you certainly don't seem to forget your place as you once had."

Another pause which wasn't filled by Angelina. Instead she stood absolutely still and stared at Tecumseh. Neither moved for a moment before he shrugged casually.

"And so you will receive your reward - you are to be my wfie." He stated simply, without feeling of any sort, though it struck Angelina as if the mountain of a man had just punched her in the stomach.

Tecumseh couldn't help but smile as Angelina absent mindedly let her jaw drop open ever so slightly her lips barely parting before closing it a second later. She said nothing for a moment.

"Yes." She nodded.

That was all there was to it as she continued staring at him blankly now out of shock more than anything. She was to be taken by a Centurion for his wife. Such was life as a female slave she had quickly learned. If nothing else Angelina knew her life would likely be somewhat less harsh, though she doubted it would be by much, and didn't care.

"Wonderful, I'd have hated to waste such an obedient slave, even if crucifxions are always oh so fun." Tecumseh gave a small smile that was clearly forced and fake as possible though it was never his intention to make it seem otherwise, "They will take care of you."

Without another word he brushed Angelina off and she slowly turned around to leave, still somewhat dazed and confused, hardly able to wrap her head around what had just happened. Still not entirely sure what to make of it Angelina was taken by one of the guards to wherever it was Centurion Tecumseh stayed, she hadn't seen his lodging in all her time at the camp, in fact she had hardly seen much of the camp at all. Angelina had spent her entire time either in the slave pens or in the arena and now suddenly she was being thrust yet again into a new life. Whatever awaited her she didn't much care. Anything would be better than what she had been subjected to but she just didn't care. Whatever ended up happening around her, to her, Angelina didn't care. She couldn't.

Once Angelina had headed back outside she was escorted by a single Legionarie who took her through the camp to parts previouslly unseen. There the unwashed masses of slaves toiled beneath the watchful, brutal eye of the mighty Legion - and nothing escaped its gaze. There, more crosses were to be found both empty, occupied and with corpes - and sometimes even skeletons - still lashed to them. There she also saw the Legion itself busy as always with one thing or another, for now it was preparing for the mighty crossing of the Colorado once more. Centurion Tecumseh had absolutely crushed the NCR forces that had been thrown at him and now he awaited the command to cross the river and take the fight to the debased and corrupt. Until such a time the men under his command busied themselves with training and preparing themselves for that moment. They existed to live and lived to exist but above all did what they did on behalf of Caesar.

Almost right in the middle of all this stood the building Tecumseh had claimed as his home, at least so long as he resided in the city, which Angelina had come to learn was named Fork Hill though she couldn't for the life of her figure out how the name had come about. It didn't much interest her why exactly anything was the way it was however, and as she entered the old worn out pre-war house Angelina took a look around her, the Legionarie closing the door behind her. The house was furnishd in a rather sparse, bland manner as was to be expected of a Centurion. As eccentric and unique - for lack of a better word - as some of the Legion's followers could be Tecumseh seemed as squared away a Centurion he could possibly be. Nothing was out of place, nothing was dirtier than it absolutely had to be, and there was hardly anything beyond what was needed. A sense of interior design was both foreign to and hated by the Legion as were most things in the post apocalyptic world they had formed in.

Starting to orient herself Angelina began giving herself a tour of the house which was two stories, though as she made her way around somewhat awed by what she saw before her Angelina dared not even draw too close to one door in particular. What was clearly Tecumseh's quarters was left alone entirely- she didn't dare approach the door - and had he been there Tecumseh would have laughed in a most pleased manner as usual. The Legion had broken yet another filthy wastelander and shown her what true fear and terror were.

Backing away from the door and heading back down to the first floor Angelina felt almost frightened, a feeling she had once thought she was unable to feel, something that had died away inside of her never again to return. She had been completely and utterly wrong in every possible way. There was fear within her and it was plentiful. Fear of the Legion, of Caesar, of all his men and what they might do- and fear of Tecumseh. In the end it was he who held both her leash and control over whether she lived or died and how either of those happened. Everything in Angelina's life was now controlled by the one horrible man she now called a husband. And she accepted it. It was now a fact of life and that was all there was to it.

Knowing exactly what was now expected of her Angelina couldn't help but put it off not because she didn't accept what the reality of her life now was but rather because it made her sick. She stumbled over to what passed for a living rom and dropped onto the couch, leaning forward her elbows on her knees, face burried in her hands. She was a Legion wife. That was to most likely a step up. Somehow it only made Angelina all that much more aware of her situation. Yet again she was painfully and horribly reminded of her position. That of nothing. She was still a slave with a different title. A woman. Still nothing more than a hunk of meat to be used up however the Legin wished, however they saw fit, in whatever way they deemed necessary and then thrown away just like the trash she was. It was all her life would amount to and she just barely avoided breaking down into tears.

Rising from where she sat after a moment Angelina regained her composure as best she could and went about what she knew was expected of her. She was a house keeper now. That was her job, her duty to the Legion. This was her reward. Something told her she would know the adrenaline fueled cruelty of the arena soon enough however. Somehow she just knew it would be waiting for her as it always had been. Angelina was nothing more than entertainment to them, this wasn't where she belogned, no matter what Tecumseh said. Angelina would know the feel of a machete in her hand once more before her life was done and over with and no amount of mind games would convince her otherwise.


End file.
